It had been months since their first night.
The factors that let him into her bed had been washed away in a stem of other hot nights, sometimes because she needed the release, sometimes because he just needed her. It wasn't a relationship. They didn't go on dates, hold hands, or buy each other gifts, just because. He didn't cook her dinner and she didn't dress to impress. It wasn't their way of thinking.
Or, at least, it wasn't hers.
It is one of those nights, one where she calls him after dinner, though if she'd waited another half an hour he'd have already been on the way. Will's in town for a case and she's feeling shaken by his presence and the knowledge that she can't fall into that again. Yet - and he already knows this - Will reminds her that she's still alone and though she made the right choice at the time, every time he floats into her life, he's that reminder of something she's lost. She's never been good with loss.
He doesn't hesitate and their conversation isn't long. Before either of them can really blink he's at her front door. She doesn't hesitate in letting him in, nor does she waste time on being polite or small talk. Instead, the minute the door is closed and safely locked she's on him, half way through unbuttoning his shirt by the time he manages to reverse their position and press her to the wall. The soft moan it draws rattles his control and his hand is in her hair, tilting her head to get the right angle. This time the moan reverberates in his chest as she boosts herself against his body, a leg hitching around his hip.
He's actually thankful she's not wearing a blouse because it's so much faster to whip the t-shirt over her head and drop it to the side then it would be to gather the dexterity he'd need to deal with buttons. As it is, his fingers are sliding almost awkwardly against the clasp of her bra at her back because her fingertips are teasing at his waistband and his head is transported back to the last time they did this and the way she'd dropped to her knees the minute her door had closed.
Finally the clasp slides open and she lets the garment slide down her arms to fall between their bodies. He lifts her ass, boosting her up against the door so he can have uninhibited access to the skin of her neck and breasts. She squeaks, as she does every time he hoists her up, as if she forgets that he's actually quite strong. But then her head fogs as he attacks her neck and chest with every means at his disposal. If his mouth isn't at her neck, it's torturing a nipple while his free hand slides over her other breast in a feather touch. One hand is still palming her ass, even though her legs alone could probably hold her up with the strength she's using to clench them around his hips. He doesn't feel it. He's too wrapped up in her scent and the sheen of salty sweat that's forming on her skin.
Her hips are rocking against his and since this night is about her, he shifts her, reluctantly lowering her so he can wedge a knee between her thighs. Then, with her weight half supposed by his leg, half supported by her feet, he places his hands on her hips and starts to rock her against his denim-clad thigh. She lets out a breathy moan and he watches her eyes slide closed as pleasure washes over her features. Her bliss heightens his arousal and one of his hands reaches up to tweak her breast, hoping this particular build up won't last long.
He's not disappointed.
She lets out a small whimper as her body stiffens, and he can't help but chuckle. Even here, the one place where no one would fault her for losing control, she doesn't cry out her release. Not that she hasn't before, and he's taken great pleasure in coaxing as many sounds out of her as he can. He sees it as a challenge, and is once again presented the opportunity. His thoughts are interrupted but her nimble hand cupping him through his jeans. Her green eyes are still slightly glazed from her climax and he groans.
"I get myself into so much trouble with you," he moans, and it's the first thing either of them has said since their phone conversation. He grasps her wrist, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then he's lifting her, kissing her and carrying her to her bedroom. He lays her out on her bed and makes quick work of her belt and pants, sliding them off quickly. He lets her remove his shirt, but his pants are too far out of her reach as his mouth starts to dance over her stomach and hipbones, just above the line of her underwear. Her breathing is heavy in the dark room and he rests his forehead just under her belly button.
"I can smell you," he growls and her hips buck up against the warm breath that fans across her skin. He takes that as his cue and, starting at her knees, slowly slides his hand up the soft skin of her thighs. His other hand stays on her knee, holding her open to him. He can't help his grin as she bites her lip instead of making a sound when his hand trails along the crease of her thigh, following the line of her underwear. He knows she's trying to anticipate what comes next. It's his second favourite game to play here, second only to drawing out the uninhibited woman from her cocoon of control. He takes great pride in being able to surprise her, and it's his greatest weapon in his goal to make her cry out.
He smiles slyly before rearing away from her body and leaning up to press his mouth to hers at the same time he slips his fingers under the last piece of cotton covering her and into her. He's more awed than surprised when she immediately clenches around the invasion, her head pushing back into the pillows as she chokes on her breath. She's beautiful, though he never tells her here. He doesn't want to cheapen a sentiment he truly believes outside the bedroom and instead settles on whispering, "You're so sexy."
There's no verbal acknowledgement of the compliment, just her body pushing against his fingers and he grins, kissing her again as he starts to move them. He holds her hip when she starts to rock with the movement of his fingers, listening carefully to the rise and fall of her breath. His fingers speed and slow, holding her on the edge of climax until she's glaring up at him. His grin is unrepentant as he enjoys her groan of loss as he withdraws his fingers. It takes him seconds to remove her underwear and before she can blink his fingers are in her and his mouth is on her and she's arching into the sheets.
There it is. He's grinning in triumph this time as he makes his way back up to her mouth, one hand supporting him over her while the other cups her hip. She relaxes slowly into the sheets as they kiss until she's impatient again. She makes quick work of his belt and jeans, shoving them down with his boxers. He loves her impatient and seconds later she's sliding a condom over his length and he's sliding into her heat. This part never gets old and he breathes heavily against her neck to stop the onslaught of everything pressing in on him.
She moves first, tilting her hips to take him deeper and he can't hold back any longer. His body moved almost without the conscious permission of his brain as he supports his weight above her. There is nothing in the world that beats this. As much as he loves to watch her, he loves being on top because, in some twisted way, he feels like he's protecting her. It's not a feeling he gets often because she's not the type of woman that needs protecting, but he likes the feeling nonetheless. Her nails dig into his shoulders and her head tilts back and he knows she's close again. He pressed light kisses to her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, anywhere he can reach. They're gentle kisses, a direct contradiction to the speed he's moving in and out of her wet heat.
She's so close, so close, and he slides one hand beneath her neck, the other under her back. Her hips tilt with the guidance of his hands and her gasp lets him know he's hitting the right spot. He smiles against her skin and knows she doesn't even realize she's almost whining in the back of her throat. But he doesn't care, because once again, he's brought her to that brink and he's been here before. He pulls out almost all the way and slams back into her at just the right angle. She cries out and her inner muscles flutter and she feels so good around him that it only takes a few more thrusts before he's joining her on the ride.
Her arms are wrapped tightly around him when he comes back to himself, and he presses a kiss to the side of her neck. Her hands slide over his shoulders, resting tentatively on his upper arms and he mentally sighs. He knows what comes next. So he's utterly surprise when he goes to move and her hands tighten on his biceps. He looks down at her, confusion clouding his eyes. She's biting her lip and he wants to be the one doing such a thing. Instead, he relaxes against her, nuzzling the side of her neck softly as his forehead comes to rest on the pillow again. Her hands slide up and down his upper arms as her head bends forward to rest on his warm shoulder.
Eventually, and he wonders if she knew it would happen, his curiosity gets the better of him. "Kate?" Because he can't call her anything but when they're this intimately entwined.
"Just..." she breathes. "Stay."
He can't stop himself from asking, "Here or tonight?"
He's almost sure he didn't hear anything, but he knows by the way her nails tighten slightly on his arms that he couldn't have been dreaming it. He ignores everything, ignores the fact that he really should get up and clean up, that this couldn't be a good idea for either of them, if only because it meant things will have changed come morning, but he can't do anything but submit.
Because tonight, she needs him. And part of him hopes tomorrow she will too.
So, first off, remember how I've been promising a few of you guys some Caskett smut? How did this strike your fancy?
Second, I wrote this on a plane. Sitting beside a little old lady, with a kid behind me, on my iPod. Do you have any idea how awkward that is?!
Third, VIRTUE AND MOIR!!! Ahem... I mean, Canada won gold last night. And the US won silver. And they're best friends, all four of them, because they train together. And Tessa and Scott are freaking adorable. And I think I've just become a massive ice dancing fan. It's less scary than the pairs because there's not as much of a falling issue or like... dying issue. I haven't been able to stop watching their free dance all day long! And I want a Scott Moir, because he's freaking adorable. And that's my ice dancing rant for today.
Fourth, I'm wired and exhausted at the same time. Which is irrelevant information for you, but with the gold last night and the fact that, really, I should have done work on the plane instead of writing this, I'm allowed.
Fifth (and finally), one of the things I like best about this is that, theoretically, it's open for more. As it stands, it's done, but it was just too beautiful of a place to leave it. I hope you guys agree!